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I’m officially free. His Birthday is next week and I no longer even talk to him at all. Everyday I wonder what he’s doing, but apart of me knows I shouldn’t even care. I wrote a poem for his birthday. The scene is of a beach because that’s where we always wanted to go. I just found out today that my friend gave him the copy of the poem and now I am wondering what he thought about it. Isn’t it absurd to think that the beach, and my obsession with colors mixed in with my emotions from him can sum up our entire story?

: Colors Of Your Skin:

You washed up on the shore
Motionless
Laying there without a care

All that was seen from afar
Were the colors of your skin
For this is what I interpreted:

Laying their motionless on the burning sand
I saw you in pieces
You were like a painting I wanted to understand

Shades of red splattered on your chest
The color was where your heart was to rest
Your forlorn pain was under the paint
It was misunderstood and misinterpreted in so many ways
The vibrant red began to burn my eyes
I could feel it starting to burn my insides

As I looked at my reflection
I began to feel your emotions

My eyes were now red
And my tears had bled the color red…

Crystal blue
Glistening from within
Another side of you
The color was coated thin
Hardly anyone could take it in
You were aware though
You used it to your advantage
So no one could see your limbs
Your different shades of green and blue
The effects were distinct
Different paints were used
It was the type that would not be able to seep through
Your colors helped you survive
And even get recognized
But even the most tranquil blue could not camouflage you
Because even from afar I saw the real you


Although you’re laying motionless
You seem content
Your abstract ways
Are blended in
Your surroundings impacted you
And smudged your ends
But it’s not too late
You can start again
There’s still a blank piece on your canvas
That’s waiting to be filled in

You’re a contemporary piece of work
My innovative interpretation
Your brilliant imagination
Is like a protective covering
Kind of like a lamination
So not just anyone can come right in

As I walk closer towards you
You still lay motionless
I try to help you
But you just look at me
And ask
“Will you lay with me?”

Even if your canvas is consumed with every single color
I would still be able to see
That in the middle of your chest
Lies an enduring transparency
Which allows your heart to beat
Uncontrollably each day